Torn in two

Chapter 5

"Hey, I was just coming to check on you," his rich velvet voice fills the little space between us.
"¡No mames!" Slips out and my hand slaps over my mouth to prevent anymore vulgarities.
I can't help but gawk at him. His intricate tattoos cross and weave from his lower abdomen lacing upwards to his toned chest, then branching out past each shoulder. The left tattoo looks to end at his bicep, whereas the right has the dark design flowing all the way to his hand, decorating each finger. He was legitimately a work of art. I pull my eyes to find his amused obsidian eyes watching me.
The officer.
"Hi," I whisper out and sheepishly smile.
"Hey," he says again, but more huskiness in his tone.
That crackling of electricity moved between us, but I knew if I let the sparks catch and burst into flames, I wouldn't get the answers I needed.
Oh how I wanted to taste those flames.
"Can we talk?" As if it caused me physical discomfort to pull away from him.
He just nods and lifts his long tattooed arm towards the black leather sofa behind him.
We find a space on the couch, not touching, but close.
He relaxes and settles his arm behind my back and begins twirling my hair with his fingers.
Butterflies break free, ricocheting on all sides of my stomach. He's still very shirtless and he's so close where his body heat radiates around us.
Not close enough.
I clench my legs together as if that would help release some of the tension building within me.
Of course it doesn't. 
The only thing that will calm this feeling is if he closes the distance.
I readjust and turn my body to face him, which meant he can't reach my hair anymore. I internally frown and also ignore the fact he has been studying me this entire time.
"What happened last night? Did we...?" I trail off motioning to my T-shirt dress.
"No, Nichole. I want you sober when we fuck," he says with confidence.
When. Not if.
"I go by Nikki," showing I was unfazed by his statement.
The slightest coy smile spreads to his plump lips.
I realize I was biting my bottom lip.
"My apologies, bebesota," he articulates the nickname.
Oh my. I swallow the lump that formed in my throat.
"Why did you bring me here then?" Referring to his house.
And based on the size of the room, this was a townhouse. I wonder how close we were to Cindy's townhome?
As if I wanted to even leave.
But I wonder if she knew where I was and if she got home safe.
And as if he could read my internal monologue, "well, you passed out while we were dancing so I brought you to my place to ensure you were safe. And your girlfriend is staying with my friend, Diego. They seem to have," he pauses, "hit it off," he finishes chuckling.
The man Cindy was dancing with last night had no distinct features from what I could recall.
Man, I really was wasted.
"I'm sorry for making you responsible for me. You could have left me there with my brother, Greg, he was there. He owns the club," I explain, feeling awful I ruined his night making sure I was alright.
It was my fault for drinking entirely too much.
The look that flashed across his face briefly was illegible.
He regained composure just as fast, "it's fine. I'm just glad you're okay," he reaches down and squeezes my barren thigh.
He keeps his hand there.
I know he meant the gesture as more of a reassurance, but the pressure sent a jolt of electricity straight between my thighs.
I suck in a breath, surprised by how strong the sensation was.
"My name is Zak, incase you want to scream it later," and closes what little distance was between us.